Ofermód
by Orwine
Summary: It may be that your sole purpose in life is simply to serve as a warning to others. The tale of Baldor the Hapless.
1. An Offer of Peace

Five riders sped eastward across the Westemnet on a fair spring day. All five were armed for war but only four wore tall helmets: the fifth wore a black cap on his head. At midday the small troop crossed the Entwade and turned north to the camp of the Éothéod. As they approached within bowshot of the gates they halted. The man in the black cap lifted a horn to his lips and blew a great blast that resounded through the camp. From behind the palisade a warrior hailed them in the Common Speech.

"Noble warriors, who and whence are you, and what is your errand with the Lord of the Mark decked out as if for war? Speak quickly lest we deem you enemies!"

The man in the black cap spoke: "We have traveled here from Tîr Balloch in the Middle Region, across the Angren. I am herald of Coiram, Lord of Fithcoll and Duke of Calenardhon, who has sent me to parley with your lord Brego, if he is willing to listen. Lead us to him swiftly, that we may know the sooner whether our journey has been in vain or not."

"No man may enter these gates against the will of the king. Wait a little while and I will find out what his will is concerning you." Saying this, the warrior leapt from the palisade and ran to the great pavilion where Brego sat at meat.

"What tumult is this, my son?" asked Hildebrand. "Has Herubrand finally tired of warring with his new bride and fled hither, where there is a surfeit of peace?"

The warrior smiled, but spoke only to the king. "My lord Brego, five armed riders from Dunland are at the gates. They say they are sent from Coiram of Fithcoll and would speak with you. What is your will?"

Gúthred spoke: "Fill them with arrows and send them back to Dunland."

The warrior said nothing, keeping his gaze fixed on the king.

"Let them enter and break bread with us," Brego said. "After that I will hear them."

The warrior hastened back to the gates and ascended the palisade. "The king bids you enter and share in his midday feast. After that he will hear you. Leave your weapons here at the gates and you may enter."

The Dunlending herald frowned. "You wish us to enter unarmed into a camp of enemy warriors?"

"Such is the custom among us," the warrior replied. "Does your lord Coiram allow men into his halls fitted for war, unless they are among his own household guard?"

"You speak truly," the herald responded. "And all who know my lord Coiram are assured that he will observe strictly the rules of hospitality, which a man may not breach without bringing great shame upon himself and his house."

"Our king is a man of honor," the warrior said. "Whatever quarrel there may be between our two peoples, he will not count it a worthy deed to seek occasion against five men who come to his table unarmed, bearing only words of peace."

"That we shall see," the herald said. "But whatever merits your lord may possess, I have less faith in the restraint of his men."

"They will not act against his will if I make it known to them," the warrior said. "But if they do, you have my word that I will defend your life and your men's lives with my sword as long as you are within these gates. I am Herulác Hildebrand's son."

At these words the Dunlending herald's eyes widened and he was silent for a moment before he spoke. "Noble warrior, you are only one man, and there are thousands in this camp. Nevertheless, if your actions are as fair as your words, you may lead us, unarmed, to your lord's presence."

"Open the gates!" Herulác commanded as he leapt from the palisade. "Heruwald! Heruwulf! Take the Dunlending warriors' spears and swords, and shields. Keep them safe, and let no man touch them until they are returned to their owners. That is my command. These men are the bidden guests of King Brego. Wait here while I take them to him, but be ready to come to my aid if I call you. I have given my word that they will leave this camp alive, unless I fall defending them."

The gates of the camp swung open and the Dunlending riders entered. They handed their long spears and black oval shields to the gate guards, then unclasped their sword belts and handed them over as well. Finally they dismounted and handed the reigns to the stable hands who waited ready to lead them away. The Dunlending herald took a hard look at Herulác. "I trust that I do not need to impress upon your mind the great wealth that I have committed to the care of your people."

Herulác gazed steadily back. "These men are all accountable to me, and I am accountable to the king." He glanced around at the gate guards and the stable hands. "If anything of yours is lost or harmed, it shall be restored tenfold. Those responsible will make the payment with all that they have. If that is not enough, I will pay with my own property. And if that is not enough, I will prevail upon the king to make up the difference."

"A generous offer," the herald said. "I hope for your sake that we will not have need to accept it. Now, lead us to your king."

As Herulác led the Dunlendings to the great pavilion, the men of the camp stopped to stare at them. The five men were clad in red tunics and white mantles. The four knights' mantles had two black stripes near the hem, but the herald's mantle had one red stripe between two black. While the knights were clad in mail shirts, the herald's only armor was a leather jerkin with iron studs. The five men were tall, as tall as any man of the Mark, but the herald was the tallest of the five. He had long, dark hair and clear gray eyes. The other four glanced aside at the onlookers, but he only stared straight ahead towards the great pavilion to which Herulác led them.

Herulác passed the two guards who stood one on either side of the entrance and stepped into the pavilion. Inside the great pavilion were two long tables at which eight dozen warriors sat at benches eating. A shorter table was set at the far end of the pavilion. Behind that table five men sat in gilded chairs. They were flanked by four guards, two on either side. Herulác led the Dunlending soldiers between the long tables to the far end of the pavilion. Most of the men at the benches stopped eating to stare at them as they passed. Brego sat in the center of the table at the far end of the pavilion. He wore a red mantle over a green tunic. His eyes were pale blue and his hair was silver and gold.

"Hail, warriors of Dunland!" he called out. "Welcome to the camp of the Éothéod on the Entwade!"

"Hail Brego, lord of the Riders!" answered the Dunlending herald. "Coiram, Lord of Fithcoll and Duke of Calenardhon, sends his greetings!"

As he finished, a murmur arose from the tables around him. Brego frowned. "It seems we have much to discuss yet, but we may do so later. You have traveled far and are no doubt hungry. Take a seat at one of these tables and eat your fill. Herulác, you may eat as well. Théodmund!"

A man arose from one of the benches.

"Have you finished eating?"

Théodmund nodded.

"Take charge of the watch."

Théodmund left, but the Dunlendings still stood. "We have not come here to share in the feasting or merriment of your people," the herald said, "but only to speak with you on behalf of our lord."

Brego stared coolly at him. "You have come into our camp as peaceful messengers, and we have permitted you to enter as such. Now, you may eat with us and then deliver your message, or you may leave now without having delivered your message."

The Dunlending herald glared back at the king for a moment, then walked over to a bench and sat down. The four knights followed him, and Herulác sat down next to them, on the end nearest the king.

On Brego's right hand, Gúthred looked over the five guests for a long while. He beckoned to one of the guards, who approached him, and the two men whispered briefly. Then the guard took his place again. Gúthred looked at the Dunlendings again with a smile.

At length the Dunlendings and Herulác stood up and left their bench with one accord.

"Lord Brego," the herald said, "I thank you for your generous hospitality, but I will not be delayed further."

"You have not introduced yourselves," Gúthred noted.

The herald glanced coolly at Gúthred, then back at the king. "We are men of Fithcoll in Tîr Balloch. I am herald of Coiram, Lord of Fithcoll, and have come to your camp at his command. Is that not enough?"

"No," said Gúthred. "You are more than a simple herald. That much is evident by your bearing alone. You are all dressed very finely and, if I am not mistaken, each of your guards is a warrior of great rank in your country. As for you, lord herald, you are a nobleman at least. What is your relation to Coiram?"

"I do not hide my rank," the herald said, "but my identity is no concern of yours. I am one whom my lord Coiram trusts with this task. That is all you need know."

"Perhaps you are Coiram himself," Gúthred mused, "or perhaps not. You must be someone important, at any rate. Guards, take these men away until we have decided whether they are of more worth to us ransomed or dead!"

The four guards advanced toward the Dunlendings. Wyrmtóth rang out as Herulác drew it from its scabbard.

In a loud voice Brego shouted: "Halt!"

The guards stopped.

"It would do you all well to remember who is king here and who is not. Guards, return to your places."

Brego looked towards Herulác. "Herulác, why have you drawn your sword?"

"I have given my word to these men that I would defend them from harm as long as they remain within this camp."

"A rash vow," Brego said. "Nevertheless, under the circumstances, it was perhaps a necessary assurance to make." He looked around the pavilion. "Hear this! Whoever these five men may be, they are free to leave this camp, unharmed and undespoiled, once they have said their part. Perhaps some day we may meet them on the field of battle, and things will be different; but I will not have them harmed while they are guests in my camp! That is my will."

Herulác returned Wyrmtóth to its scabbard.

Brego looked towards the Dunlending herald. "I am sorry for this breach of hospitality."

"Your hospitality has been no less than what we expected," the herald answered. "But we did not come here to enjoy your hospitality. My lord Coiram desires to know what you mean by coming here bearing arms, and settling your people on this land, which is commonly known as Calenardhon, and which you call the Mark."

"Now we come to the heart of the matter," Brego said. "We may also ask what you mean by bearing arms and settling your people in a land that was granted to the House of Eorl by Cirion, Steward of Gondor."

"Our people lived in this land long before the Men of the West set foot in the land they call Gondor."

"Perhaps," said Brego. "I do not challenge your knowledge of your own history. But did not your people once acknowledge the Kings of Gondor as your sovereign lords?"

"I have heard that we did once in the long-distant past," the herald answered. "But that alliance ended long ago, and we do not wish to renew it. Even should we wish to renew it, where now is the King of Gondor? There is only a man who claims to act on behalf of the king, yet dares not sit upon his throne."

"You may not acknowledge the Steward of Gondor," Brego said, "but Calenardhon belonged to Gondor, not to Dunland. It was the Steward's to dispose of according to his will."

"Gondor has had no effective presence in Calenardhon for many years," the herald countered. "Our people have lived here since there was a king in Gondor. Indeed, we lived here before we settled in Tîr Balloch, well _before_ there was a king in Gondor.

"Nevertheless, Tîr Balloch is your country," Brego said. "Where your people once lived and where they have chosen to settle in recent years makes little difference. We have been granted Calenardhon by the Steward of Gondor, and it is now ours by right."

"The rulers of Gondor were fully aware of our settlements east of the Angren," the herald responded. "They permitted them because they knew that the Gondorian population of Calenardhon alone was too small to defend against attacks by invaders from the east."

"I had not heard that," said Brego. "Do you have a record of this agreement with a King or Steward of Gondor?"

The herald paused for a moment. "I am not aware of any record, but it is commonly known among our people."

"And it is commonly known among our people," said Brego, "that when my father was twenty-five years of age, the Éothéod rode out of the north to defeat the Balchoth and the Orcs, who had trapped the armies of Gondor on the Field of Celebrant. Where were the warriors of Dunland in that battle? In that same year Cirion, Steward of Gondor, stood upon the Halifirien and swore an oath to the One, granting the land of Calenardhon to my father. Nevertheless, if you wish for a record of that event, I will send a small detachment of riders to accompany you to Mundburg, where such records are kept."

"I care not what oath Cirion made," the herald said. "Our land was not his to give. Nevertheless, it seems that your people have grown roots in this land. My lord Coiram is prepared to permit you to keep your settlements in eastern Calenardhon on the following conditions: that all your people remove to the east of the Onodló, which you call the Entwash, to the south of the stream you call Snowbourn, and to the east of a line from the peak of the mountain you call Irensaga north to the Snowbourn; and that your people never cross these borders bearing arms or to settle."

"Your lord would have me abandon my capital and the grave of my father?" Brego demanded.

"You do not reside in the place you call your capital," the Dunlending herald responded. "As for your father's grave, my people do not disturb the dead. Nevertheless, if you mistrust us, you may remove your father's body and possessions to Aldburg, where he ought to have been buried in the first place. These are the terms of peace which my lord Coiram offers to you and your people."

Brego laughed. "I hope it did not cost your lord Coiram very much discomfort to extend such a generous offer to this people—a blight on his otherwise grand and glorious dukedom. Nevertheless, Cirion granted to my father the whole of Calenardhon, and its borders are well known: it is bounded on the west by the rivers Adorn and Angren, as it is commonly known, but which we call the Isen. Now, if you are willing to hear me, I have an offer of my own to make: your people may stay on the lands they have settled east of the Isen, but they must surrender their arms to the Éothéod or, if they wish to remain free men, they must swear allegiance to me as their sovereign lord. Otherwise, they should leave their settlements and cross the Isen with as much haste as is seemly."

"I have no authority to accept your terms," the herald said, "even had I the desire to do so."

"Your lord gives you authority to declare terms, but not to accept them?" Brego asked. "It seems to me that this was not so much a parley as a threat."

"Had you been less stubborn," the herald said, "it would have been more of a parley."

"I will not agree to your lord's terms," Brego said, "and you have neither the authority nor the desire to agree to mine. What is there left to negotiate?"

"There is nothing left," the herald said. "I have said all that my lord Coiram has granted me authority to say. My task is complete, and now we shall take our leave. Or do you wish to detain us further?"

"You may leave as soon as seems best to you," said Brego.

The herald nodded. "Farewell, lord of the Riders!"

"Farewell, warriors of Dunland!" answered Brego.

The Dunlending warriors turned and followed Herulác out of the pavilion and back to the gates.

"How did it fare?" asked Heruwulf.

"Not well," answered Herulác. "And yet, not as ill as it could have fared."

The Dunlendings mounted their horses as soon as the stable hands had brought them out to the gates, and then the gate guards returned their swords, shields, and spears. The five warriors rode out through the gates, but as they did so Herulác called out: "Farewell, noble warriors of Dunland!"

The herald paused and looked back. "Farewell, Herulác Hildebrand's son!" he said. "May we two never meet in battle." The Dunlendings spurred their horses on southward, wheeled right to cross the Entwade, then broke into a gallop as they sped across the Westemnet.


	2. A Council of War

"Shut the gates!" Théodmund ordered.

Herulác climbed up to the palisade wall and peered over, gazing intently at the five riders as they vanished into the distance. Finally he turned around and leapt to the ground. Heruwald and Heruwulf were already halfway to the great pavilion. Herulác followed slowly behind.

"My lord Brego, the five Dunlending warriors have departed our camp unharmed and undespoiled, as you have bidden," Herulác announced as he approached Brego's table.

"It is well," said Brego. "Herulác, you were with them the longest. What do you think they meant by coming to our camp?"

"If they had any other intentions than what their herald himself told us," Herulác answered, "I could not tell. Nevertheless, it did not seem to me that he expected you to agree to his lord's demands. Therefore, I do not believe he came hither to make threats, but to justify a war."

"We are more ready for war now than we have been for a generation," Brego said. "Nevertheless, we could use more time to prepare."

"I do not believe they will delay very long," responded Herulác.

"This is a pointless discussion," Gúthred interjected. "The time to strike is now, before they have a chance to muster their armies."

"Unless they have already done so," said Herulác. "In which case we must be careful we are not riding into a trap."

"If they have mustered their armies, then it is already too late to do anything but ride to meet them," said Gúthred. "We should have driven out the trespassers much earlier, but now is much better than later."

"It is clear we must take action soon," said Brego, "but what form that action should take is not yet clear to me. I would like to hear Éowald's counsel before I make any decision."

"I know what _he_ will say," Gúthred muttered.

"I will weigh the counsel of all my captains," Brego said. "We shall meet in my pavilion at the beginning of the next watch. Any who have duty that watch shall have to appoint lieutenants to take their place."

Brego stood up from his chair and left the great pavilion, followed by the four guards. Gúthred also left shortly thereafter. Hildebrand remained in his seat and poured himself a cup of wine.

oooOooo

Brego sat in a gilded chair in his pavilion. To his immediate right sat a tall man with a scar across his left cheek. Although his face was as weathered and wrinkled as the king's, his hair and beard were still flaxen gold. This was Éowald Éomund's son. Next to him sat Gúthred, smoother of face and less tall, with green eyes and light brown hair. To Gúthred's right sat Hildebrand, whose hair and long beard were entirely gray. These were the chief captains of the Éothéod.

Wígfana stood, and all voices were hushed. "Thanes of the Éothéod, listen closely! This day is a day of great consequence. Much depends on what we will decide here today. Let us hearken to the words of our king!"

As Wígfana sat down Brego spoke: "This day we have received an offer of peace from Coiram, who is lord of the Dunlendings on the far side of the Isen, and claims sovereignty over the Mark as well. He has offered to cede to us the East-mark, except for the lands around Edoras, if we acknowledge his sovereignty over the West-mark and Edoras. I have refused his offer. If there is anyone who disagrees with my actions this day, let him stand and make his case."

No one stood. Brego continued: "Herulác, son of Hildebrand, believes the Dunlendings mean to gather an army to drive us out of the West-mark, and that they will do so very soon. Gúthred believes we should attack immediately, whatever their intentions are. However, I would like to receive more information and counsel before I make any decision. That is why you are here. Gármund, son of Gúthred!"

Gármund arose.

"How many armed warriors of the Dunlendings are now on this side of the Isen?"

"It is impossible to say," Gármund responded. "Most of the Dunlendings in the West-mark are mere farmers or herdsmen. They could be armed, but they are not well-trained in the arts of war. Some of the settlers are trained warriors, but they form a small portion of the whole. Nevertheless, their numbers have been steadily growing since your father Eorl was granted this land. I would guess that there are now no less than two hundred and no more than one thousand Dunlending warriors in the West-mark."

"Either way," said Gúthred, "we still outnumber them if we strike now."

"True," said Brego, "but that does not take into account the warriors on the far side of the Isen, who we may be certain will join battle against us as soon as we attack their brethren in the West-mark. Gármund, how many warriors does Lord Coiram command?"

"We know very little about the Dunlendings who live on the far side of the Isen," Gármund said. "I cannot say with any certainty how many warriors Coiram commands, but it must be at least six hundred. It may be as much as four thousand, or perhaps more."

"So we may be required to fight five thousand trained warriors or more," Brego mused.

"My lord," Gúthred said, "few Dunlending warriors are armed as the five men you saw here today. Only chieftains and warriors of great rank wear shirts of mail. Most wear leather jerkins or no armor at all. Many do not wear helmets, or only leather caps. Most carry spears and shields, but only noblemen of high rank carry swords. And most Dunlending warriors fight on foot, rather than on horseback or chariot. I do not think they will give us much trouble."

"There are many different ways of giving trouble," Brego said. "Gármund, what is Lord Coiram's rank and influence within the Kingdom of Dunland?"

"He is a lord," said Gármund, "and as such he has almost complete sovereignty over the people of Fithcoll. The Dunlendings are said to be ruled by a High King, but of him we know almost nothing save his name. At any rate, his authority seems to be more symbolic than real. Real authority is in the hands of the various lords and chieftains of Dunland, who form temporary alliances with each other to aid themselves in their petty feuds against the other lords and chieftains."

"How many of these lords and chieftains are there?" Brego asked.

"I do not know," Gármund answered. "We know of five whose lands border the Isen. Beyond them it is impossible to say how many there are."

"And with how many of these lords and chieftains does Coiram currently have an alliance?"

"Again, I do not know. He has a long-standing alliance with Liath of Balreith, but his other alliances are so brief or little-known I cannot say anything else with certainty."

"How many warriors does Lord Liath command?" Brego asked.

"At least five hundred is my guess, but it may be as much as three and a half thousand."

Brego smiled. "If your high estimates are correct, perhaps it is better if we cede the West-mark altogether."

"I do not believe they are correct," said Gármund. "I only give them because I do not know the true numbers, but I believe my low estimates are closer to the truth."

"Thank you, Gármund," said Brego. "Lords and captains, what then is your counsel?"

"We should drive the Dunlendings out of the West-mark immediately," said Gúthred. "If any Dunlending lords try to intervene, we should drive them back across the Isen and lay waste to their lands."

"And how many riders will we need for this task?"

Gúthred thought awhile. "Six companies of six _éored_s each should be sufficient, if Coiram and Liath choose to become involved."

"And what if all Dunland becomes involved?" Herulác asked.

"Then we may need more," Gúthred answered.

"It seems to me," said Brego, "that in order to respond to the Dunlending threat, I will need to draw warriors away, either from the burgs or from the Downs, if not from both."

"I would advise against withdrawing any more men from the Downs," said Éowald. "We barely hold the line of the South Downs against the Easterlings with three companies. If they see us withdrawing any more, they will be sure to attack."

"The Easterlings have not bothered to do more than feint since the Battle of the Wold," Gúthred said. "At any rate, we should have dealt with them long ago. Now we shall just have to wait until the Dunlendings have been dealt with."

"The Easterlings are patient," said Éowald. "They have long been prepared for war, and eye the green fields of the Eastemnet with much longing. They are both a greater and a more immediate threat to us than your Dunlending squatters."

"Do you think they will dare attack us again after having suffered so great a defeat in the Battle of the Wold?" Gúthred asked.

"They will remember the names of their many warriors who were slain, but those men are now but a distant memory to the younger generation. And they will also remember that Eorl himself fell in that battle. Thus time may turn even great defeats into victories."

"It was not a total victory for us," said Brego. "Neither was it a total defeat for them, for they still go whither they will within the Wold. Éowald, how many armed warriors defend the Wold against us?"

"It is difficult to say with certainty," Éowald responded. "The Easterlings hold the forts at the Undeeps, and their people freely cross the Great River between the Brown Lands and the Wold. I believe they have settled on the North Downs and perhaps further north, beyond our country, although I doubt they stray too close to the Golden Wood. When we try to lay siege to the forts, a great host sweeps down from the Wolds to hinder us. I would say there are at least three thousand, and perhaps as many as six thousand arrayed against us."

"Hildebrand, what counsel do you give?" Brego asked.

"I say we go to battle," he responded, "whether with the Dunlendings or the Easterlings, or both at once."

"I do not wish to divide my forces and scatter them across the Mark," Brego said. "I fear lest the Dunlendings should spread as far eastward as the Entwash. But then, at least, we would all be holding a single line against the enemy. Aldor, my son, what think you?"

Aldor sat in the second chair to Brego's left. He wore a red tunic and a green mantle. "I am with Hildebrand," he said. "Let us fight our enemies, wherever they may be found. Perhaps it is not best to fight them both at once, but we must decide soon. If my uncle Éowald wishes not to withdraw any men from the Downs, then let us take what men we have gathered here and go to battle against the Dunlendings."

"And who will defend the Entwade?" Éowald asked.

"With your men defending the Downs against the Easterlings and the rest of us attacking the Dunlendings, what need do we have to defend the Entwade, unless some new enemy should arise against us from the earth, or fall from the heavens?"

"A clever enemy will attack us from a quarter we do not expect," said Éowald, "and he will not need magical powers to do so. All he will need is to wait until our attention is focused elsewhere. I would that we had more than three companies to defend the South Downs, but at least we have the garrison of the Entwade to keep the Easterlings cautious. Without it, I fear three companies would not be enough."

Brego sighed. "Baldor, have you any counsel to give?"

"Baldor keeps his own counsel and gives counsel to none," Gúthred said.

Baldor sat on Brego's left hand. He wore a red mantle over a blue tunic. His hair was gold and his eyes were as the sea under a canopy of storm clouds. He spoke for the first time in the council: "The difficulty is that Gúthred and Éowald are both right."

"Do you see any solution?" Brego inquired.

"The solution is the same," Baldor said.

"How do you mean?" asked Brego.

"Since the Battle of the Wold, we have had nothing more than minor feints and skirmishes with the Easterlings. They have not dared to attack our lines in strength for two dozen years. It may be that they will not dare to attack for another couple of dozen years, but we do not know that. Gúthred wishes to do battle with the Dunlendings. In order to do so, we must withdraw many of our men from the South Downs. Éowald believes the Easterlings will take that opportunity to attack us. We have held them off long enough: let us give them the opportunity they desire."

"That would put us in a very precarious position," Éowald said. "How will we prevent our retreat from turning into a rout?"

"We will meet them in equal numbers," Baldor replied.

Éowald frowned. "We cannot do that without sending reinforcements from this camp, and if the Easterlings see us marching against them in force, they will probably not dare to attack."

"That is the real difficulty," Baldor said. "We must make it appear to them that we are only withdrawing men from the Downs, when in fact our reinforcements are greater than the number of those withdrawn."

Éowald thought awhile, and the frown gradually left his face. "It may work," he said.

"But it would leave the rest of the Mark open to attack from the Dunlendings," Gúthred countered.

"We will need to withdraw men from the Downs anyway to support your quarrel with the Dunlendings," Éowald said. "In this manner we will have a chance of withdrawing them successfully."

Brego stared at the animal skins that covered the ground in front of him, twisting the end of his beard with the fingers of his left hand. At length he looked up at his captains. "Let us see a map of the East-mark," he ordered. "It seems to me that we have the beginnings of a plan of battle."


	3. The Stage is Set

Éowald folded up the map of the East-mark and handed it back to Gléored. Brego turned to Wígfana. "Send messengers to Gíslhere at Súthburg, to Herubrand at Edoras, and to Eofor at Aldburg," he ordered. "They must be warned against a possible Dunlending attack. Gúthred! Take Gármund and muster the West-mark. Warn the people and have all those who are not able to bear arms flee to Súthburg or Edoras, whichever is closer. Then lead your muster back to hold the Entwade. I will leave Aldor in charge of the camp at the Entwade. Éowald! Send a messenger immediately to your companies on the Downs to inform them of our arrival, but be careful! We do not want him to fall into the hands of the Easterlings. The rest of us will ride to the Downs this evening. That is my will."

The captains of the Éothéod stood up and talked among themselves. In small groups they gradually left the king's pavilion. Gúthred remained. "My lord Brego, I would speak with you," he said.

"Speak, then."

Gúthred looked around behind him before he spoke. "My lord, do you think it wise for Baldor to lead a company against the Easterlings?"

"I think it neither wise nor unwise," Brego answered. "He is a son of the Lord of the Mark. To lead is merely his duty."

"But he has not been tested in battle, as has Aldor. Indeed, those two were ill-named, for Baldor is truly the elder of the two, yet Aldor is more bold. He has not whiled away his time at Aldburg, listening to the music of the harp and the songs of women."

"Times change," Brego said. "I do not doubt that we shall all be tested in battle before long. The skirmishes that Aldor has been in will be as nothing compared to what lies before us. Even those of us who fought in the Battle of the Wold may find ourselves tested more now than we were then. Baldor is a son of the House of Eorl and, if he has not yet tasted battle, now is the time for him to do so. I believe he will not disappoint us."

"I hope that you are right," said Gúthred.

oooOooo

Hildebrand and his sons accompanied Baldor as he returned to his tent. "Well, young prince," said Hildebrand, "it seems you have finally got yourself a command."

"I did not ask for it," said Baldor.

"You opened your mouth in the council," said Heruwulf. "I call that asking for it."

"I am sure that when we return to Aldburg," Hildebrand said, "the young ladies will all want to know how you have handled your command."

Baldor said nothing.

"Sigewyn tells me several of them have taken an interest in you."

Baldor's eyes narrowed. "Which ones?"

"That would be telling," Hildebrand replied. "At any rate, she did not tell me any names."

"By the time I find out who they are, they will already have been taken."

"What need have you to find out what women think of you!" Hildebrand exclaimed. "Choose one who interests _you_, gather up your courage, and talk to her!"

Baldor smiled wryly. "That will take me even longer."

"Ah, but it is not so difficult once you have made the decision. It was many years before I realized I needed a wife. That was the turning point. Then it was not long before I found Sigewyn, and I have been happy ever since."

Baldor smiled but said nothing.

oooOooo

Baldor pulled his ring-mail hauberk over his head. Around his waist he clasped a golden belt inlaid with garnets. From this belt hung Thrymma in its scabbard, its hilt of gold encrusted with garnets. Baldor threw his mantle over his shoulders and fastened it with a golden brooch inlaid with garnets and checks of blue and black enamel. On his head he placed a light iron helm covered with gilded designs and pulled the straps tight beneath his chin. He took up his shield and spear and emerged from his tent.

The grounds before the gates were filled with horses and armed warriors in bright mail. As Baldor arrived there a young warrior came to him leading two horses behind him, saddled and bridled. One was chestnut and the other was light gray, almost white.

"Hail. cousin Baldor!" the warrior said. "At last you have come. We may not tarry, for your father wishes to depart before last light. I have brought you Sneltrym."

The warrior handed the reins of the gray horse to Baldor, then mounted the chestnut horse. Baldor mounted Sneltrym. He looked out over the mass of men and horses. "Where is our company?" he asked.

"Come, I will lead you to them," the warrior answered.

"Byrnrinc has brought our new captain!" shouted Byrnwulf as the two riders drew near. A cheer arose from the company. "Hail the son of Brego, the grandson of Eorl!"

Baldor looked around at the men in his company. Most had less than thirty winters, and eagerness shone in their faces. "We are to take our place behind my father Brego's company and before Hildebrand's company. Do not stray to the side, but follow directly the riders ahead of us. Do not make much noise. When I give you a command, follow it in every detail. We may be on the field of battle within a half-day. Most of us have never tasted battle; nevertheless, let us remember our king! Let us remember the bright rings and battle gear he has given us! Let us remember the oaths we have sworn to him in the wine hall, for we may soon have need to fulfill them!"

"For the Mark!" the company cried. "For Baldor and the Mark!"

Already Éowald's _éored_ had left the gates. Baldor's company took its place behind the king's company and followed it out the gates. Baldor looked up at the sky. A veil of dark clouds hung over the West-mark, and the wind blew in brief gusts at the backs of Éowald's riders.

Herulác rode up alongside Baldor on a dappled gray horse. He looked above him, then back at Baldor. "That should help us," he said.

"The wind has been blowing from the southwest all day," Baldor said.

Herulác grinned. "Your father should have made you a chief captain," he said.

"One company is enough of a charge for me," Baldor responded. "Or one _éored_."

The company turned left at the track that ran from the Entwade and set out eastward across the Eastemnet, the wind whipping at their backs. They soon passed a stone wall to their left, within which was a small cluster of buildings, some of stone but most of wood, their timbers decaying and their roofs fallen in.

"Athrad Onod," Baldor said.

"What?" said Herulác.

"The Entburg, as we call it."

Herulác's eyes widened. "Was it built by Ents?"

"No, it was built long ago by the people of Gondor, while they still ruled this land."

"If it was not built by Ents, then why do we call it the Entburg?" Herulác asked.

Baldor gazed off into the distance and said nothing.

"Either you do not know, or you do not wish to tell me," Herulác said. "Either way, I am sure I shall have better conversation with Heruwulf. Come, Wangstapa!" With that, he wheeled his horse around and rode back to Hildebrand's company.

Baldor turned to Byrnrinc. "Take the lead, Byrnrinc," he said. "I must speak with the Lord of the Mark."

Baldor hastened forward to where Brego sat astride Sigetrym, a pure white stallion. "Father," he asked, "should we light the beacon on the Halifirien?"

"I had thought of that," Brego answered. "Hallas is an honorable man, and I do not doubt that he will honor his father's promise; nevertheless, I do not wish to call upon his aid just yet. Neither Hallas nor most men of Gondor have the love for our people that Cirion, the greatest of all Stewards, had. I would rather defend the Mark with my own strength until Gondor itself is threatened. Then, if they give us aid, at least it will not be grudgingly."

oooOooo

Darkness soon fell upon the Eastemnet. The voices of the riders were hushed, and they rode on in silence. The light of the half-moon shone briefly upon the plain below, but the dark veil over the West-mark soon swallowed it up in its inky maw.

At length the ridges of the South Downs rose to their left. The riders continued onward until the entire troop was behind the southernmost ridge, then turned left towards it. After some time they reached the slopes of the ridge. Brego's company wheeled to the right, but the other two, following Éowald's _éored_, turned back to the west, riding two abreast at the foot of the slope. Now the wind was howling in their faces, but it was not long before they reached the westernmost end of the ridge. There they turned northward, keeping close against the western edge of the Downs.

The clouds above glowed as lightning struck on the tops of the downs, and the rumble of thunder resounded through the air. Sharp gusts of wind sent brief showers of rain down upon the riders. Éowald rode past the scarp of the southernmost down and turned to the right just moments before the rain began to fall in a steady shower. Two by two the riders passed into the trough between the downs. They rode on for several hours until they came across two riders in their path.

"Éowine!" Éowald cried. "Has Gléored arrived?"

"He has!" Éowine called back. He looked at the troop of riders that lined the shallow vale. "Come, let us find shelter for our guests. It is not far from here!"

"You may guide Hildebrand's company to shelter," Éowald shouted. "The rest of us will ride on to Éoferth's camp."

Éowine and his companion rode back to greet Hildebrand. The troop continued onward until a gap opened in the ridge to the left. Éowald turned into the gap, followed by his riders.

As Baldor neared the gap, Herulác rode up beside him. "This was a brilliant plan, Baldor!" he called out. "The Easterlings could not possibly have noticed anything amiss in all that thunder and rain. We shall have no difficulty taking them by surprise—unless we are all taken ill! At least I reach my shelter before you reach yours." Saying this he rode off to rejoin his company.

Baldor followed Éowald through the gap. It was not long before the rain subsided, but the wind still blew chill. The riders kept to the west wall of the gap, but once they entered the next trough there was no shelter from the wind. Éowald turned right into the trough, and his troop followed him for some time before they found themselves surrounded by armed warriors.

"I had expected you earlier," the leader said. "It is less than an hour before light—if, indeed, there will be any light today. When does the battle begin?"

"That depends largely on what the Easterlings choose to do," Éowald answered. "Our pieces are in place now, but the first move is yours, Éoferth: yours and Wígfana's."

oooOooo

Well before the first light of dawn Wígfana left the camp of the Entwade and sped northward across the Eastemnet. Thick clouds hung over the East-mark, but far to the east the sun rose in a clear sky and cast its rays of amber across the earth. Wígfana's battle gear glinted red in the light of the rising sun. From his spear fluttered a golden banner embroidered with a silver horse. He traveled northward in a direct line, heading straight for the rounded hill at the northwest corner of the South Downs. As he drew near to the hill, troops of Easterling warriors crept down from the Wolds, but he presently wheeled to the right and vanished into the trough behind the northern ridge.

oooOooo

Éoferth roused Baldor from slumber. "It is well past mid-morning," he said. "Wígfana has arrived. If you wish to eat, you had better do it now. We march within a quarter-hour."

Éoferth sat with Baldor's company as they ate. Éowald approached them. "Éoferth, is your company ready?" he asked. Éoferth nodded.

"Remember to place your bravest men in the rear," Éowald said. "Once you reach the southernmost down, stand fast at all costs!"

"I will remember," Éoferth said.

"My son, farewell! Sister-son, farewell!" Éowald turned and walked away.

"Farewell!" said Éoferth and Baldor.

Éoferth left Baldor's company to ready his own. They were soon on the march westward through the trough between the two ridges, Wígfana riding beside Éoferth. Baldor's men hastily readied themselves and rode out behind them. Baldor gave orders to his company that no man was to ride ahead of him. He rode at a brisk trot, but did not break into a gallop. In time they caught up with Éoferth's company.

They rode behind Éoferth for some time, until finally he came to a halt at a wide hollow in the scarp to the south. Éoferth rode back to Baldor. "You will wait here until the signal is given," he said. "Have you a herald?"

"I am he," said Byrnrinc.

"You will ride with me until we reach the end of the Downs," he said. He pointed to a hill that stood just beyond the edge of the northern ridge. "That is where you will stand," he said. "Farewell, cousin Baldor! May our deeds match our oaths this day!"

"Farewell, Éoferth!" Baldor said.

Byrnrinc left with Éoferth's company. Within a few minutes they emerged from the Downs. Byrnrinc began to climb the hill, but the rest of the company turned south.

Baldor's company waited in the hollow, watching the small figure of Byrnrinc in the distance as he made his way up the hill. After a moment they heard a faint rumble. It gradually strengthened into a roar as of thunder, and they realized that it came to their ears from over the north ridge. From the east a horn sounded the signal of alarm.

"It has begun," said Baldor.

"I hope they do not all attack Éowald," Byrnwulf said. "If they manage to break through his position, _we_ will be the ones taken by surprise."

"Gléored will call for our aid if they do," Baldor said. "Let us wait."

Baldor's company heard the cries of men and the clash of weapons faintly, far to the east, but the thundering of hooves continued to grow louder. Suddenly, Byrnrinc sounded a great blast on his horn from the hill to the west. An arrow flew from the host below and pierced his throat. The signal of alarm was cut short, and Byrnrinc toppled from the hill. Byrnwulf stirred restlessly in his saddle, but Baldor placed a hand on his shoulder.

"The time for fell deeds is soon at hand," he said, "but not yet."

They waited as the roar of hooves passed them to the west and began to dwindle away. Faintly they heard the whine of arrows. Far to the south a horn sounded the signal to halt.

"That is the horn of Holmfara," Baldor said. "Éoferth has made his stand at the southernmost down, and my father with him."

"My brother was to have sounded our attack," Byrnwulf said. "We cannot see the battle from here. Do we march now?"

"Let us wait a moment," Baldor answered.

From the south now, as well as from the east, they heard the faint cries of men and the clash of arms. The company was silent as Baldor waited. At last he wheeled around to face his company.

"Remember your oaths!" he cried. "And remember Byrnrinc!" He raised his spear above his head. "For Byrnrinc! For Byrnrinc and the Mark!"

Baldor wheeled around again and broke into a gallop. His men echoed his cry and hastened to catch up to him. Byrnwulf held his spear aloft. From it flew a sable banner embroidered with a white horse. At full gallop Baldor's company poured forth from the Downs.


End file.
